Chapter 2: A Time That Suits

“Yes. Well. It’s cold.”

She had meant to spare him a journey. It had come out as an objection to one he had already made.

“Was she in?”

“Yes.”

He took the hat off and pushed it into his coat pocket. She waited for him to tell her more, but he only tucked in the bit that protruded. Perhaps he was tired of the house, the buses, the time an afternoon could lose around a job. She remembered how quickly he had put away his phone on their way home.

“I won’t keep you. I’ve had a message about the church hall. Their piano needs tuning before they use it again.”

He looked at her then.

“A different one?”

“Certainly a different one. I’d be worried if this one had got there by itself.”

Usually that would have brought something from him. He smiled, but briefly, and she found herself reaching back for the door handle though she was not ready to go in.

“Next Tuesday,” she said. “I’ve told them I can do it in the afternoon. They can let us in after school if you’re coming.”

He looked down at his shoes. “How long?”

“I haven’t seen it yet. I can’t promise a quick finish.”

“Right.”

“You’d be paid for your time. Including the travelling.”

“I know.”

The words were plain, neither sharp nor grateful. She could not find a place in them to put her next sentence.

Downstairs, a door shut. She heard that distinctly. She watched his mouth in case he spoke while the sound was still in the stairwell, but he was turning one empty hand inside the other.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

His hands stopped.

“Come on Tuesday, I mean. You agreed to help with some appointments. That doesn’t mean I can fill up every afternoon you’ve got.”

“It’s not every afternoon.”

“It can still be one you want.”

He looked past her into the apartment. From where he stood he could see the bag beside the door, its handles together. She had not intended to put it on display.

She moved half a step into the corridor.

“You can tell me tomorrow. Or say no now. I can arrange a time in the morning and take the tools over myself.”

“I can carry them.”

“I know you can. That’s not what I’m asking.”

For the first time since he had returned from the bins, he looked directly at her. She kept her hand loose on the handle. It took an effort not to explain how useful he was, since that would make a refusal harder while pretending to do the opposite.

“Tuesday’s all right,” he said.

“Are you sure?”